They Hurt You
by CrazyLabRat
Summary: I don't get it. How could anyone hurt him? I just can't understand it. Can't wrap my head 'round it. Smart, funny, adorable Greg...  A short Prequel to ICRATT. It crawled into my brain and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Rated for language.


A/N: Okay… So, hello everyone. This is something that I've been writing on the side and decided that it was a perfect prequel to It Can't Rain All The Time. Nick's POV. Just a little bit of angst/hurt/comfort. I couldn't resist. Plus, I wanted you guys to see how Nick felt during ICRATT. At least, in my mind. ^.^ Enjoy!

I slammed my locker shut, still positively shaking with rage. How dare that little prick? How fucking dare he? That one punch just wasn't enough... I wanted to hit him again. I wanted to crush something, break something... anything. Throw glass and revel in the sound of it shattering into millions of pieces. I'm pacing back and forth through the locker room, clenching my fists. My breathing, harsh and labored, echoed around the quiet room. A hand dropped down onto my shoulder, startling me a little. I'd thought I was alone. "You need to calm down, Nick." I glared at the floor instead of my best friend, because he wasn't the person I was mad at and I wasn't going to take my anger out on him.

"I know 'Rick, I know. I'm trying." He leaned back against his locker and eyed me for a long moment. I knew he wanted to say something more, so I went back to my pacing and waited. He'd say whatever it was that he was thinking in his own time. That's just how he is. I closed my eyes and attempted to take a slow calming breath. It was no use, though. The moment my eyes shut I saw that piece of hair and scalp from his head. I saw every punch and kick he'd endured through the splatter patterns of his blood. I saw his bruised and bloodied body lying there in the middle of the street, helpless and broken. With spit on his vest, like he was the disgusting one…

My fist hit the locker without my knowledge or consent. It just… happened. The throb of pain the action caused made me feel the tiniest bit better… made the ache in my heart hurt just a little less, the lump in my throat a little bit smaller. I opened and closed my fist three times, checking for broken bones, of which there were none. I kind of wished there were though. "Shift is pretty much over, man. Just go see him." I blinked and looked up into Warrick's warm green eyes, confused. He answered before I had to ask, though. Amusement tinged with sadness covering his features. "Greg… Go see him. He's at Dessert Palms. Room 421." I nodded, and mumbled a soft 'thank you' as I headed for the door. 'Rick caught the back of my shirt though, surprising me yet again. I paused mid step and turned towards him. "You should tell him, you know…"

I didn't have time to ask him what he meant by that. Not that I didn't try… I just didn't have the chance. I mean, I blinked and he was gone. With a frown I headed out to my truck and jumped in. As I turned the key in the ignition, I bit my lip. What if he didn't want to see me? He might want some privacy or something. I shook the thought away. He'll tell me if he doesn't want visitors. Greggo's never been shy. I just… I have to see him. The thought hadn't even occurred to me before, but now that it was there, it was my only driving force.

I don't get it. How could anyone hurt him? I just can't understand it. Can't wrap my head 'round it... Smart, funny, adorable Greg, with his odd stories, wild hair and anecdotes about his Grandpa Olaf… Who could ever hurt someone as gentle and kind as him? I've been working with him for a long time, and I've never seen him get mad at anyone. Snippy? Sure. Cranky? Occasionally. But never actually mad, no. Not once. He never has a bad thing to say 'bout anyone either. Always ready to offer a smile and a corny joke, if only to get a chuckle from you. My hands were bone white; I was squeezing the steering wheel so hard.

I want to find every last one of those sick fucks. I want to round them up and take them down, one at a time. Watch them squirm and writhe in pain, begging me to stop. I want to turn back the clock, make it so no one had laid a single finger on him. Watch him walk into the lab with a grin on his face, talking about his latest date. There are just so many things that I want right now, but every single one of them involved Greg. Whether it's to hurt those who hurt him, or to prevent any pain inflicted upon him at all... I had just pulled into the Palm's parking lot when I realized something. I knew exactly what Warrick had meant now.

Honestly my reaction to all of this was a giant red flag to anyone with half a brain. But I wasn't trying to hide it in the first place. I just never made it blatant or anything. It is my firm belief that my personal life is just that, personal. There was no way that Greg would ever seriously consider me as a partner. He's young, attractive and has an undeniably adorable personality. He could have anyone he wanted. Be with whomever he chose. I knew this like I knew that the sky was blue. Just like I also knew that he wouldn't choose me. But that was alright.

I tell myself that as long as he's okay, happy… then I'm fine. But he's not okay. He's laid up in some stuffy hospital bed, with bruises all over his body. Who knows what else those twisted fuckers did to him. I was punching my dash before I had time to stop myself. A satisfied half smile half grimace flitted over my face as my hand pulsed in a sharp jolt of pain. This was nothing compared to what he's feeling. I could take it if he could. And I honestly wish I had. That it had been me in his stead. Because he is too beautiful to ever be harmed.

I was standing outside his room before I really knew what was happening or even how I'd gotten there. It was as if I were in some horrible dream. A dream that I couldn't control, that I couldn't wake up from... I couldn't escape.

He was on his back, all bandaged up and his eyes closed. He was bruised seemingly everywhere that was visible, and that only made the ache clawing around inside my chest even sharper. I curled my hands into tight fists to keep them from trying to hold him. Difficult as the urge was to ignore, I knew it wouldn't do any good.

I bit my bottom lip and moved towards the chair that sat right next to the bed, sitting down as quietly as possible. I had no intention of waking him. He was probably all sorts of doped up anyway. It was enough to just sit and watch him sleep. Knowing that he was breathing…

Not okay, but alive.

That would have to do.

I jumped slightly, my eyes opening abruptly. My neck was cramped and my back ached and that alone told me that I'd fallen asleep. But as to what had awoken me, I couldn't readily tell. The room was lit, but only dimly, and empty, aside from Greg and myself of course. He lay perfectly still in the undoubtedly uncomfortable hospital bed, breathing light. I'd thought him to be sleeping still, but upon closer inspection I realized that his eyes were half lidded. Indeed, he was awake.

I leaned forward and tried to offer a sheepish smile as I greeted him softly. "Hey Greggo, how're you feeling? Can I get you anything?" He was quiet for long moments, swallowing thickly. It took me longer then it should have to figure out that he probably wanted water. I rose and moved to pour him a cup from the tiny plastic pitcher that sat on the table right next to us. He must have thought I was leaving, though. Because his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist with a speed I didn't think him capable of right then. His eyes were wide, and scared and pleading with me. That one look alone broke my heart.

I stepped closer to the bed and showed him the cup before grabbing a straw from the table. I pulled the chair closer with my foot and sat down again, this time right by his side. "I'm not going anywhere, G. Promise." His grip on me lessened, but he still didn't let go. The warmth from his hand made my pulse jump erratically, especially when he used his hold to pull the cup in my hand up to his lips. My eyes were automatically drawn to his mouth, as it sealed around the straw in a perfect pout. Despite his injuries, he was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I just couldn't help myself.

It was a long few minutes of him drinking the water before he finally was able to speak. "How long have you been here?" I smiled, and decided to lie through my teeth. "Not long, I think I nodded off for like ten minutes, though. Work, you know?" I left out the part about my case being his scene. It just didn't need to be said. There was something in the way he looked at me right then, though. Not like a few minutes ago, not scared, no… but more knowing. I didn't question it because he looked like he was amused, and really, if I can make him smile despite everything, then it doesn't matter what is going on in that head of his… I don't have to know.

I tried to pull my hand back, to set the cup down, but a gentle tug stopped me. "What's this?" His eyes were on my knuckles, now a deep purple. I grimaced slightly, because I hadn't meant to let him see that. He wasn't supposed to be worrying about little stuff like that anyways. He had bigger fish to fry.

"It's nothing. No broken bones. I'll be right as rain in no time." I was surprised to see that he narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, clearly irritated, before looking back down to my hand and tracing one of my knuckles with his thumb.

"Don't… Nicky, you shouldn't do that to yourself." My chest burned, ached, and tears stung at the back of my eyes. How can he just…? How can he sit there and be concerned about my little bruised knuckle when he can't even open his eyes, when his face was so swollen that he couldn't speak properly? When I knew he must be in pain from head to toe?

The first and only tear fell without my consent.

Thankfully, he didn't notice. I was able to wipe it away with my free hand before he saw. I couldn't keep the emotion from my voice, though. "They hurt you..." He nodded once. It was a fact… one that I would give my left arm to change. But he smiled slightly and gently dropped my hand. I wasn't prepared for how cold it suddenly felt. A shiver actually crawled up my spine.

"But I am still breathing. I'm still here. I can't really ask for much more then that right now."

We ended up talking for a long while after that, mostly about nothing. Stuff like the new diner that opened up just outside of Henderson, or who was coming to the MGM Gardens within the next few weeks. Greg wasn't going to be working. We talked for so long that his eyes started to flutter and he nodded off right in the middle of his sentence about the new mayoral candidate. Elections always affected the lab… Politics. One thing I don't think I'll ever excel at. I stayed for a long time after that. Even when his breathing evened out in sleep, even when a nurse came in and injected some morphine into his I.V…

I sat there deep in thought… about everything that occurred today. About the kid whom Greg had killed, about the man he'd ended up saving in turn... About not seeing him around the lab for a while and about not being there… not being able to protect him. Yeah, there's no doubt about it anymore.

I'm in love with Greg Sanders.

Not just attracted to him. Not just some little crush that I can ignore. I mean full on, one hundred percent, can't live without him, in love.

Maybe someday I'll get up the nerve to tell him, too. And I will have to tell him. A person can't just hold something like that in, forever. Not today, though. He's been through so much already and I can't bear to add to it. I let my eyes trace the outline of his face just before they fluttered closed. In that moment, I made a promise to myself. If I ever have the opportunity to hold him, even once... I'm never going to let go.

I slipped back into sleep sometime later. And it would be months and months before I realized that sitting there, sleeping awkwardly in that horrible hospital chair, was the first time since the day I was buried that the nightmares didn't come.


End file.
